Shift
by TheSoulReader
Summary: Maka finds a fellow shapeshifter. He avoids her. She catches him. Shit is angsty and beautiful. This is a mixture of hurt/comfort, friendship, some sprinklings of romance. And now I'm updating this because stuff is gonna happen. It always happens. I can't make it not happen.
1. Ghost

**A/N: I have some hardcore writers block happening right now, which is why SOL has not yet been updated. I'm in the process of writing the last chapter of The Grow Up Game. In the meantime, I spitting out one shots as they come to me. That said, if enough people like this, it can be expanded a chapter or two, and I may play around more in this universe. This is completely unbeta'd, written on the fly, the tense change (from past to present) is completely intentional in the last section. Enjoy.**

* * *

The first time she saw him she was 14. She had been in her own Shift form, making her way through the forest when she'd caught sight of him at the edge of the lake. His wings were oversized, limbs lanky and awkward, and his tail trailed limply behind him as he made his way around the water's edge. His head, though seemingly bigger than his body, was a finely chiseled panther's visage, those his color was the antithesis of such. Pale and ethereal, the moonlight that shone upon him gave him the appearance of glowing.

She thought he was beautiful.

Her first instinct was to go talk to him. Others who could shift were exceedingly rare, and she'd never met another of her kind before. But when she made to reveal herself, rounded ears flicked towards the foliage, and the white beast clumsily, but quickly, took to the air before she could stop him.

When she revealed her discovery to her best friend the following day, all he said was, "Maybe he just didn't want to be bothered, Maka."

She had scowled at her companion and declared him useless.

* * *

The second time she saw him, she was 17.

While resting in the tall grass of a nearby meadow she spotted his ghostly form in the distance. He had filled out in the time she'd seen him last. Though he was still long limbs and oversized wings, he had muscled up, and the sinews of his body moved visibly beneath his pelt. His back had broadened and he carried his tail in a loose loop about his neck, which had thickened to properly balance the weight of that beautifully feline head of his.

It struck her that even as he moved so gracefully on digitigrade paws, he did not carry himself with any sense of resplendency (and he certainly was resplendent). Rather, his shoulders were hunched and he seemed to slink about, broody and uncomfortable.

She could not resist revealing herself, though she tried. A soft chirp slipped from her maw, calling to her brethren enthusiastically. He gave her the courtesy of turning to look at her this time. There was a brief moment where he took in her feline features of spots, the inky tear tracks that lined her muzzle, and the exceptionally long tail that waved in the air behind her.

He gasped when he saw green eyes, and took to the skies immediately thereafter.

She did not get the opportunity to see the color of his eyes.

"Why does he run away from me, Soul?" she asked the albino boy, as if he would have the answer.

Soul only shrugged noncommittally, chewing on the end of a tall piece of grass. "I don't know why it matters so much to you. What, you got a crush on him or something?"

She dumped a bucket of water on his head and left him spluttering.

* * *

Maka is 22 when she next finds him again.

He stands on top of a hillside, the light of the full moon bathing him in its celestial glow. He's all corded muscle and thick bone. Nothing about him is disproportionate. He carries his wings close to his body, that long tail still draped about his neck. The last few inches of it sway languorously over his chest. Rounded ears pitch back and forth atop his broad skull, bringing light to his agitation, though the rest of his body gives the appearance of total relaxation.

She stays hidden in the grass this time, careful not to move a muscle, twitch a whisker, take a breath.

When he roars into the cool air of the night, she feels her heart shatter. It is a sound of anguish. Loneliness. Despair. He is suffering, and she does not understand why. When he roars again, wings flared outwards, tail unfurling from his throat to bristle, she cannot contain herself anymore, and she is running towards him.

He sees golden fur and ebony spots. A creamy underbelly and green, green eyes.

He takes to the air.

This time, she follows.

The alabaster behemoth is startlingly quick considering his bulk, but he is practiced in what he does. His wing beats are strong, and his tail is coiled about his waist in order to make himself more aerodynamic as he climbs higher into the pitch of the night. But Maka is practiced, too. She is small and agile, and above all else, she is determined.

He will not escape her this time.

It takes her less than a minute to catch him in his ascent, her well-muscled tail lashing forward like a whip to grip his ankle, yanking on him to pull him closer. But he doesn't fight her and pull back like she expects him to. No. He abruptly folds his wings around himself and drops like a stone, pulling her along with him. Her options are to crash into the earth or let him go.

She has to release in him in order to right herself. She wants to catch him, to learn about him. To ease his heartache. But she can't do that if she's dead. Her heart soars when she watches his wings unfurl and she marvels at his display of power and control when he beats them and his belly skims the grass before he's soaring into the sky again.

She follows him again. This time her approach is more direct, and she darts to and fro, chirping and chittering at him like an obnoxious little hummingbird. He hisses at her, muzzling wrinkling and lips pulling back to reveal veritable daggers in his maw.

She is not afraid.

He strikes out at her with a great clawed hand, twisting his body, gnashing his teeth, all while trying to keep himself aloft. She is annoying him. But he's not trying to hurt her. He just wants her to go away.

 _Please go away!_

Maka does not go away. She trills at him and deftly intertwines their tails. He wasn't paying enough attention, and now he's trapped. He cannot escape without damaging himself. Their tails are extremely sensitive, and he does not want to escape badly enough to suffer the sort of debilitating pain that would come with torn cartilage.

The white giant finds himself descending slowly, easily, alighting upon the dewy grass with an uncanny amount of grace. And then he stares at her. He stares at her with eyes that burn. Bright embers set in a façade of ivory.

He roars in her face. A great cacophonous bellow that sends the nocturnal creatures that surround them scattering. The sound vibrates in her ribcage, but she is still not afraid. She has never been afraid of him. Could never be afraid of him.

Her tail loosens its hold on his, dipping, bobbing, weaving upwards until the tip strokes over the top of his muzzle. And then, ever so slowly, she wraps it along the length of his maw, effectively clamping his mouth shut. Of course he tosses his head a time or two, the edge of a carnassial tooth making an appearance as he pulls what he can of his lips up to snarl at her.

It is a hollow gesture.

Her own ears flatten against her head as she takes in the male before her. He could kill her, but he won't. She knows he has already submitted to her, though his deadliest weapons are still at his disposal. Hands, feet, tail. All are available to him. He will use none of them.

She moves closer, cautiously, leaning up to nuzzle beneath his chin, and her tail relinquishes the hold on his muzzle. A great sigh is expelled from the larger of the pair, a mournful moan following shortly after. He cannot help but to curl his tail around her narrow waist.

They stand there for seconds, minutes, hours…they don't know.

The night wind rolls across the plain and they sink down in the grass together. The scent of earth fills their nostrils, the thrum of their heartbeats ringing loudly in their ears as their blood rushes through their veins. She is tucked into his chest, moss eyes closed off to him. His clawed hand pressed into the small of her back to bring her closer, his ruby gaze hidden from her.

The next time their eyes meet, flesh is pressed to flesh. There is no shame, no fear, no worry. There is, however, sorrow in the crimson eyes that behold her.

"How long," she whispers.

"Since I was eleven," he croaks, averting his eyes at the admission.

"Soul!"

"I know."

"That's longer than I've…"

"I know, Maka!" he growls. Now stubby fingers dig into the flesh of her shoulders, but he's not trying to hurt her. He's trying to ground himself.

A delicate hand alights on his cheek as she presses their foreheads together. "How could you not tell me?"

"I didn't…I don't…I don't want to be _this."_

He is suddenly very aware of their nakedness, but makes no attempt to move. If anything, he attempts to cover Maka further, to hide her from some nonexistent threat.

"Why? What's wrong with what we are?" she asks him, angry. She is proud of what she is. Who she is.

"I'm a _monster_ , Maka! I can't control it! I _can't do what you do_!"

 _I'm no good._

"That's a lie!" she snarls

"It's not! I change randomly. I never know when I'll…"

"No, you idiot!" she hisses. "I believe that part. Not being able to control it. Finesse has never been your forte."

He snorts at her, still indignant, even though he admitted his own lack of control.

"You're not a monster, Soul."

When he opens his mouth to protest she grabs him by the ears, fingers catching a couple strands of hair. He winces at the contact, but she wants him to pay attention to her words.

"You are beautiful," she murmurs, nuzzling along his jaw.

"I'm not."

"You are. You are, you are, you are."

She punctuates each affirmation with a kiss to his nose, his chin, his forehead.

"I don't want it," he gurgles. Tears he has valiantly held back escape watery eyes, cascading in quiet rivulets over a quivering chin and onto the milky flesh he so protectively hovers over.

"Why?"

She doesn't understand. Maka never feels as free as when she's Shifted. Never feels as powerful, as graceful, as deadly.

"I'm tired, Maka. I'm so tired of being different," Soul sobs into her neck.

Maka pulls him on top of her without a second thought, arms wrapped tightly about his ribcage as she lets him cry, fingers carding through his thick mane of white.

"You're not different," comes the warm reply. "You're just like me."

 _That's all that matters._


	2. Breathe

"No, Soul. Breathe. _Focus."_

"I'm _trying_ , damn it!"

"Don't yell at me! I'm trying to help!"

"I'm not yelling!"

It had been a few days since Maka had discovered Soul's secret, and after much cajoling (Soul swore his ears were going to bleed if Maka didn't leave him be), Maka had convinced Soul to return to the meadow with her. She wanted him to learn how to control his Shift form. Even more than that, she wanted him to feel as free as she did with the wind in her wings and dirt beneath her claws when she hunted beneath the moonlight.

Although all they had done for the last two hours was argue.

The initial dispute had been over Maka's casual attitude about being naked in front of him. She very pointedly told him she wasn't about to ruin clothes while shifting all for the sake of modesty. They'd seen each other naked plenty over the years, and this wasn't any different. Soul had tried to argue that it most certainly _was_ different, and besides, it was fucking _cold out_ , and this whole endeavor was stupid.

He had lost the battle in the end, resignedly removing his clothing and setting it on a nearby boulder. His embarrassment was quickly replaced with annoyance when Maka began directing him the ways of shifting. Didn't matter if she was naked as a jaybird or drowning in layers of clothing. She was still bossy as fuck.

Soul wouldn't (couldn't, most likely) relax. He kept fighting the Shift. A round ear would appear, and he'd immediately try to suppress its appearance. The bridge of his nose would broaden to form his muzzle, and he'd beat back the change again. He couldn't accept this part of himself, and that was why the Shift ran wild. It had to express itself, and if Soul would not allow it to happen willingly, it would force its way out. He could change back only when his blood was satisfied.

Soul scowled and sulked while Maka took a deep breath and began to shift on her own.

"Just picture it in your mind, Soul. Any part of your Shift. Picture it and just let it come."

Emerald eyes closed to him and he watched, awestruck. A pair of spotted wings emerged from Maka's shoulder blades to flare wide and proud. When her eyes opened again, they were slitted, obviously feline, and focused solely on the other Shifter. Her skin was the next to change, fur sprouting from her forehead to traverse over her chest and extremities. Inky lines that impersonated tear tracks outlined nose and mouth, golden hair seemed to dissipate into nothingness as her skull broadened, and small ears slid up her head while they rounded out.

How was it so easy for her? He didn't understand. She was…untouchable. Perfection whether human or shifted. Long limbed regardless of her shape, graceful without effort, an ethereal dream made real right before his eyes. Maka didn't just accept this facet of herself. She embraced it. Coveted it. Her Shift was an intrinsic part of who she was as a person. The revelation was startling.

Soul stood silently, mouth agape as she finished her transformation. He watched as already elegant fingers lengthened, nails that were once chipped and opaque now sharpened and slightly hooked. Deadly. Her feet broadened, and small toes fused together to form larger digits that were well arched and thickly padded. The bones of her ankles followed suit. She wobbled momentarily as her hocks formed and bent to support her larger frame, arms extended to keep her balance. And the pièce de résistance, her tail. It extended from her spine in a disturbingly rapid yet undeniably fluid motion. Ten feet of muscle, sinew, and unbridled power and control.

Onyx lips pulled back in what Soul would probably deem a smile, off putting as it may have been. Of course, his counterpart's grin really just reminded him of his own…and he was sharp toothed all the time, regardless of whether or not he was shifted. She chirped at him once, walking forward with unbridled surety. She was more than familiar with this body. She'd had access to it since she was fourteen. Walking in this form was as easy as breathing.

He almost hated her for it. Especially when she stood before him, towering over his human self by a good six inches, a clawed hand carefully alighting on his cheek. She offered a slight chirrup, unable to form words to speak to him, and deftly pulled her wings forward to blanket his body and cocoon him in warmth. It was all just so easy for her, and he…he was nothing.

Soul felt her wings constrict around him, her tail joining in to coil about his waist, arms following shortly after that. Maka had him wrapped up with every part of her being, and he swore that she would have embraced him with her very own soul if it were possible. It hit him then that the entire outing had nothing to do with her own desire to see him shift. Of course not. Maka was selfless, not selfish. She wanted him to accept himself as she accepted him. As she always had, always would.

It startled him when she leapt back with a gasp. He was confounded further when she began chittering away like a lunatic, bounding around him in the meadow, alternating between being bipedal and quadrupedal. What the shit was she so excited about?

When he noted his vision had gone grey, he understood. He still couldn't help but to pat down his body, staring down the length of himself to see large digitigrade feet. His tail had automatically settled in a loose coil about his throat, a habit he had developed after his first few shifts. He tended to step on it quite frequently otherwise. The rumor around the village was that the pained roars the wind carried was the wailing of an angry forest spirit.

Close enough.

Soul grunted and frowned the best he could in his Shift, but Maka was positively giddy. At one point she wholly rubbed against him, a bit lost in her feline mindset. Her tail ran in a spiral from his abdomen to his shoulders and she playfully bopped him on the nose with the furry tip before she bounded away again. He watched as she frolicked and tried to entice him to come play, and for a brief moment, he considered it. But then he remembered what an awkward ill-tempered beast he was, regardless of form, and as quickly as the Shift had taken him, he rejected it.

An agonized roar was pulled from him as he reverted back to his human shape too quickly. The violence of his change caused him to vomit, and he desperately tried to scramble away as Maka approached. It was futile, of course. She had seen…and heard…and seen some more. It took her less than a minute to change back to human, and he found himself envying her again. Her change, though rapid, was controlled. There was no reason for adverse effects.

"Soul! Soul, look at me! Are you ok?!" she called to him, desperate to affirm his safety.

His vision had returned to color, but it was blurry, and he felt woozy. He swayed a bit on his knees as he made the attempt to stand. Maka was there to catch him, as she always was. She never let him fall. He may stumble, but he never met the ground if she could help it.

"You _had_ it! What happened?"

"I don't know," he whispered.

"Don't lie to me, Soul."

He opened his mouth to refute her accusation, but the look in her eyes was enough to stop him. There was no anger there. No pity. There was just sadness. And fear. Her eyes were glazed over and wet, fingers trembling as they pressed to his chest.

"Maka…?"

"Try again!" she barked at him.

"Wha…are you INSANE!?" his eyes widened, incredulous. "That shift almost killed me!"

"TRY AGAIN!"

"Maka, I _can't do it_!" he growled at her.

"You _can_! You _did_!" she insisted, voice rough.

"It'll kill me if I change!"

"Soul, it will kill you if you DON'T! _Please!_ You have to _try_!"

And there it was. She'd said it. She'd said what he already knew. It was amazing he was still alive at this point, if he were to be honest with himself. The Shift would kill him eventually if he could not come to accept it. Fighting the changes his body underwent (and he did fight, every single time) was so taxing on his system that he aged prematurely. It was a great strain on the body, physically and emotionally.

"Don't do this to yourself."

His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as she plead with him. She didn't want him to die. He really didn't want to die, either. But, to be such a beast…how could he walk beside such a perfect creature of the night and not feel the weight of his own unworthiness?

Her hiccupped sob brought him back to the present, and he came to the conclusion that he had no choice. Leaving her alone in this world was not an option. And he was a selfish fuck anyway. They were tied to each other. He would do it for her.

"Not for me."

"Huh?" he queried. He hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud.

"You need to do this for yourself. I accept you for absolutely everything you are, Soul. Even the things you hate about yourself. But I would never ask you to stay just for me. It was wrong for me to suggest it. I don't want you to suffer."

Those words were enough for him. She didn't want him to suffer. He didn't want her to suffer, either. He would not be the cause of her pain.

"We need to go to the lake."

"What? Why?"

"I need the water. It helps me."

Maka only nodded, moving to gather her clothes for the trek. They only had a few hours of darkness left. They would have to wait another day if Soul didn't shift by sunrise, and she already felt he was running short on time. A large hand around her wrist halted her movements however, and she turned to look up into red eyes. His thumbs brushed the tears from her cheeks, his gaze both somber and fond. A quiet resignation had settled over him, and he kissed her forehead before moving away to redress himself.

He could do this. He _would_ do this.

For the both of them.


	3. Tempest

**A/N: This was supposed to be a one/two shot. I don't know who the shit I was kidding. Next chapter will be the last chapter, and there will be smut, but if that ain't your thing, the story wraps itself up just fine here. It's just not enough for me.**

 **Thank you for those who have left comments and kudos. Especially comments. I really, *really* enjoy commentary.**

 **For those who have read my other works, I usually tend towards more dialogue. I'm not super dialogue heavy in general, I don't think, but definitely more than what has been presented in this piece. I felt that describing the actions and emotions on Soul's part was more important this time around, versus the two having a discussion about things. When it comes down to it, Soul is the kind who acts more than speaks anyway.**

 **This piece, though short, has become strangely special to me, even though it was written on a whim and in a very short space of time. It means a great deal to me that people like it.**

 **Thank you.**

* * *

Soul curled his toes into the wet sand of the shore, taking a moment to inhale deeply as his ankles were momentarily engulfed by water. Despite the chill in the air, the lake was surprisingly warm, and the ebb and flow of the tide was soothing to frazzled nerves. There was something about that push and pull, the give and take between moon and earth, that put him at ease. As tempestuous as the relationship could be, the relationship always came back into balance.

Such an exchange was viscerally familiar to him.

"Soul?"

He turned to face his friend, eyes aglow in the light of the night, and he tipped his head as he acknowledged her presence. Maka was his moon. She controlled his tides, the moodiness that raged within him day in and day out. That made him smile a bit, and he allowed himself a wry chuckle as he walked towards her.

"What do you think about when you shift, Maka?"

The blonde took a brief moment to consider the question, pulling her arms behind her back and grasping a wrist with her hand.

"I think about lots of things," she said. "It depends on how I'm feeling, but, as I've said before, overall I just want to feel free. So I think about the freedom of the sky. Not being bound to the earth unless I choose to be."

The young male nodded as he dropped himself into damp sand rather unceremoniously. He was farther from the water, but the moisture that seeped into his pants kept him connected enough to the lake that he didn't feel so ill at ease. It was kind of funny when he thought about it. Felines shouldn't care much for water, but he always felt more comfortable when he was near it. He felt the same tranquility at the edge of the water that he experienced whenever Maka was with him. It's why he escaped to it when he needed peace and the young woman couldn't help him.

"Freedom, huh?" he hummed. "Ok then."

Dusty brows knitted together, wondering at his words. Maka opened her mouth to speak, but silenced herself when she saw that Soul had closed his eyes. He sat cross legged, arms extended just behind him, and his fingertips worried idly at the turf. She watched his chest expand and contract as he breathed, his intake of air slowing. It seemed he was trying to center himself and focus, and so she quietly took her own seat just in front of him so as not to disturb his efforts.

Soul opened his eyes, and the world was in greyscale. He had shifted a single part of himself, just as Maka had back in the meadow. His eyes flicked over his surroundings, taking in the changed texture of the sand and grass, and he heard Maka's gasp when his gaze settled on her. She said nothing, and he couldn't decide how he felt about that.

His eyes closed again and he considered what Maka had said. Freedom. Maka's version of freedom was not his own, however, and he found himself focusing on what it actually meant to him. The result was flashes of Maka rolling in the grass with him when they were little, her hair billowing in the wind when they stood on the high hills in the heat of the day, the way she climbed into the sky, fearless and brazen, when she was shifted. It was her skin, lobster red after spending too much time in the sun, and chapped lips on his cheek when he was feeling broken. It was the look in her eyes when she had called him beautiful and accepted him for who he was with no complaints.

Maka was his freedom.

His breath hitched and he felt a tear trickle down his cheek, but still his eyes did not open. Soul instead focused on the stirring in his blood. The Shift wanted to express himself, and for the first time in his life, he wanted to let it happen. He felt the shift of muscle and tendon beneath his flesh, the itch of teeth as they elongated in his mouth, and the tingling of his spine as it elongated in his torso and lengthened to form his tail. He could not hold back a wince as his toes fused and his ankles grew and bent to form the support structure for feet and hocks. It wasn't painful, but it never felt pleasant, and Soul was positive he would never grow accustomed to it.

Soul was also certain he looked a mess at present, halting his transformation to take an emotional break. He was riding the edge of his own self-acceptance, trying not to teeter back over the line to reject the Shift, and so he was currently awkward legs and splotchy patches of fur. He hadn't bothered trying to form wings yet, and the entirety of his upper body, save his hands, was still human.

He chanced a look at Maka, fully expecting revulsion, but there was nothing in her expression that spoke to her shutting him out. Her face was set with tears, eyes red rimmed and bloodshot, but she was not afraid or repulsed. He wanted to reach out and hold her, but she knew him better than he knew himself.

"Keep going."

Soul swallowed the lump in his throat, a shaky exhale escaping him before he nodded slightly. But he didn't close his eyes again. He was used to shutting this part of himself away, keeping it hidden. Maka didn't deserve that. Maka…Maka cared about him, no matter his appearance. Shift or human, albino or not, scrawny or fat. It didn't matter. She was the only one who ever tried to understand him, even when he didn't understand himself. So he let her in, as she deserved to be.

Ruddy eyes held jade as the bridge of his nose broadened, skull following suit and flattening. His hair, unlike Maka's, did not simply fade away, but fell out, a pelt of ghostly velvet replacing the long tendrils. His ears rounded out and slid to sit wide and low on his head, and he flicked them about involuntarily as the enhanced sounds of the night reached him. The only thing left was his wings, his chest and back having already expanded to make room for larger lungs and musculature meant to support the weight of such appendages.

The shifter took a shuddering breath and wrapped his arms around his torso, bending over slightly as he pictured them in his mind's eye. He saw them, leathery and lined in fur, swallowing the air as he soared through it with a spotted shifter. Pictured the skies as he beat at the wind to ascend into the inky expanse of the night.

When Maka called upon her wings, they bloomed from her back, blossoming as a rose did when given enough time and care. Soul, however, was not a flower. He was rough, rugged, ragged, and the whole of his transformation was the same. His wings exploded from the expanse of his back, and he cried out softly in surprise. They held themselves open of their own accord before their owner had enough presence of mind to shift them about and ease into a more relaxed position.

Reluctantly, Soul moved to his feet, his bulk too great for the position he had held for his shift. Now he stood at a formidable 6'10", and he more than dwarfed Maka's frame. He was a foot and a half taller than she was, never mind the heavy muscled features of the Shift. His imposing size did nothing to deter Maka, however, and she slammed into his body, bawling without shame and wetting the fur of his belly. He let her, just as she had for him, and after a moment's hesitation his wings dropped to cocoon her as she had also done a few nights prior.

"I…" Maka sniffled, trying to control her own sobbing. "I am so proud of you."

Soul stiffened for a brief moment. Those were not the words he had been expecting. He hadn't expected any, really. Even so, the words Maka spoke were different from the meaning they held. He was not so dense as not to understand that.

The tail that had looped over his shoulders tightened about his throat a bit as he guided it downwards to snake beneath Maka's chin. He pushed the tip up, the pressure causing Maka's head to follow suit, and snorted quietly as he took in her swollen eyes and wet nose. His head dipped a bit so he could snuffle across her hair, their height difference too great for him to nuzzle her. And then he pulled away, eyes surprisingly bright as he darted for the lake on all fours.

Maka stared after him, completely dumbfounded. It wasn't until he paused to look back at her, veering off to run along the shoreline, that she understood. She quickly shucked off her clothing before she shifted, trilling at him as she darted to catch up.

He had moved to running bipedal and so she followed suit, long limbs churning as she held position next to him. His form was more powerful but hers was more agile, and it struck Soul yet again that the two of them were made to be paired together. She ran alongside him and kept pace without issue, her feet skimming across the surface of the sand, barely leaving imprints. He left deep impressions in the earth, a testament to his strength and size. And when they both took to the air and allowed weightlessness to take over their bodies, they became a tempest in the night sky.

Nothing could destroy them. Together, they were free.


End file.
